


Undercover Liaison

by rachlovesligers



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fake Pregnancy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachlovesligers/pseuds/rachlovesligers
Summary: Steggy Week 2020 Day 2: TropesPeggy and Steve go undercover as a married couple. Featuring “hurt/comfort” and “there’s only one bed!”
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 130





	Undercover Liaison

Steve slips the gold band onto his own finger. He can’t say this is the exact way he’d imagined this moment, but it certainly isn’t the worst iteration of it, either.

The simple gold ring matches the one Agent Carter wears, although it doesn’t symbolise any life-long promises or intense emotions. Well, not on Peggy’s part, at least. Steve can’t quite shake the emotions tied to wearing a wedding band that bears her name.

The wedding ring is the last piece in the jigsaw of Steve’s disguise. He’s freshly showered, wearing an aftershave he hates, and his hair is parted on the wrong side and it’s driving him crazy.

He’s also wearing civilian clothes for the first time in months. Not his own civvies, but an ill-fitting, roughed-up suit. Steve finds it irritating on his skin, although that might just be nerves. Either way, he’s not looking forward to finding out what else is in the suitcase provided to him.

The door swings open, and Steve stands to attention as Agent Carter marches towards him. His eyes are drawn to her ring finger, where her own gold band sits above a sparkling engagement ring. It’s not the kind of ring he would have chosen for her, the twists of metal and clustered stones look too busy.

“At ease, soldier.”

Steve feels his ears turning pink as he widens his stance.

“Agent Carter,” he says in greeting.

“It’s Maggie from now on,” she reminds him sternly. “Are you quite ready, _Roger?_ ”

Steve nods and bends to pick up his suitcase, then he reaches for Peggy’s. She opens her mouth, then shuts it.

“I suppose you’re right, it won’t do to carry a suitcase in my condition.”

Steve’s about to ask her what condition that is, but then she turns to face the door and he sees for himself.

He’d read in the briefing documents that Peggy - or rather, Maggie - was expecting, but his understanding was that she was early along, _second trimester_ , it had said. It hadn’t occurred to Steve that she would be showing.

He swallows as Peggy smooths the front of her dress down. It suits her, and Steve feels a pang of despair as he realises this will be another man’s reality one day.

“It will come in handy when I’ve collected what I need.” Peggy pats her midsection, and Steve realises that’s where she intends to store whatever it is they’re extracting.

He’s not privy to the details of their undercover mission, of course, seeing as he’s not a qualified agent. All he knows is that Peggy needs to collect something vital from a doctor in the heart of occupied territory, and Steve is only there to complete her cover and provide backup.

Steve just nods dumbly, and starts towards the trunk of their car, trying not to think about how Peggy’s ring and bump make his stomach twist in knots. He feels her eyes on him, and he knows his cheeks are burning, but there’s nothing he can do about that.

…

It’s a long drive after an early start, and Peggy falls asleep on Steve’s shoulder. He isn’t sure if that’s a deliberate move on her part, to rest against her husband instead of the cold car window, but he doesn’t complain, he likes how warm she is against him.

She’s awake by the time they arrive at their hotel, and this time she remembers to let Steve carry their luggage.

…

The first order of business is to eat. Peggy freshens up and changes into an evening dress that would’ve had Steve’s jaw on the floor, if he hadn’t had so much practice at keeping his feelings to himself since meeting her. The deep green material compliments her colouring perfectly, and this dress, unlike her previous one, fits snugly around her, accentuating her rounded belly.

They sit at a table in a half empty restaurant opposite their hotel. Peggy had picked the place without requesting any input from Steve, and then requested the waiter sit them by the window. Steve isn’t sure if either of those are her preferences, or part of the mission.

Their conversation flows comfortably, and the food is better than anything Steve has had in a long time. For a moment he forgets why he’s there, and then Peggy reaches across the table to take her hand in his. He jolts at her touch, and she squeezes his hand.

“Are you feeling alright, Roger?” Peggy’s voice is soft and soothing, but he knows she’s reminding him of their cover.

“I’m swell, Maggie.” The name feels strange in his mouth, and he thinks he sounds like a wooden actor in a low-budget picture.

The waiter comes to check on them, and Steve is starting to sweat. He refers to Peggy as his wife when he orders dessert for both of them. That earns him a small smile from Peggy, and he relaxes just a little.

With a false boost of confidence Steve reaches up to brush back his hair, then remembers too late that his part is on the other side. He does a haphazard job of trying to fix it without a mirror, while Peggy and the waiter have an odd conversation about flowers.

Just as the waiter leaves, Peggy clears her throat, bringing Steve’s attention back to her.

“Kiss me,” she says without warning, and Steve’s jaw really does drop this time.

That earns him a kick under the table, and then they carry on like nothing happened. Peggy’s incredible at keeping cover, but Steve knows he fucked up. By the time they get the check, Steve is itching to get back to the privacy of their room.

Oddly, the waiter places the tiny silver dish in front of Peggy. She picks up the check and examines it, her brows pulling together as she reads it over several times.

Steve’s about to ask if they made a mistake, but then she puts it back in the dish and promptly slides it across the table.

“You’ll pay, won’t you darling?”

He’s a little embarrassed that she feels the need to remind him.

…

Finally back in the privacy of their hotel room, Steve sinks down on the edge of the bed and scrubs his hands over his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Peggy is taking out her earrings while simultaneously slipping out of her shoes.

“You just need a little practice, that’s all.”

He frowns “Practice?” They’re mid-mission, when the hell is he going to find time to practice espionage.

“Practice being intimate with me,” she clarifies. “So it doesn’t come as such a shock when it happens in public.”

Steve’s heart starts to race. “ _Oh.”_

Peggy licks her lips and squares her shoulders. “Would you like to kiss me, Roger?”

This time, the _yes_ that comes out of Steve’s mouth is loud and clear.

Peggy is across the room and in his lap in seconds, but she doesn’t try to kiss him right away. Their faces are so close, but Steve is distracted by her weight pressing down on his thighs. It feels heavenly.

“Kiss me?” she asks softly.

Steve takes a deep breath, and then does what he’s been dreaming about for months.

It’s a little awkward at first, his nerves start to get the better of him, but then Peggy strokes the short hairs at the back of his neck and the sensation he gets from that take over.

Their tongues slide over each other, warm and slick, and Steve cuddles Peggy close. For long minutes Steve’s eyes are shut and all he knows is Peggy - the smooth wetness of her mouth, her warm breath, the sharpness of her teeth as she drags his bottom lip through them, her hips starting to rut slightly in his lap - then suddenly she pushes him back on the bed.

Peggy is on top of him, the full weight of her pressing into him, but they’re still kissing. She pulls away and shifts so that she’s straddling his hips, and Steve laughs, giddy and light.

“Do we need to practice this too?” he teases.

Peggy’s expression changes in an instant, and suddenly she’s lifting herself off him.

“Of course not, I’m sorry, I... I got carried away.” She seems flustered as she straightens her dress and Steve doesn’t know how to fix things.

“It wasn’t a complaint,” he replies, but it’s too late. Peggy heads to the bathroom.

…

Steve sleeps restlessly in an armchair. Peggy had tried to talk him out of it, but he’d just sunk down into the chair and glued his eyes shut until he heard her resigned sigh.

He’s not going to force her to share a bed with him, no matter how guilty she feels about seeing him sleep in a chair.

…

They spend most of the next day travelling together in the car, which allows them the privacy to act as they normally would. Steve’s palms are sweaty on the wheel, and he gets butterflies whenever Peggy directly addresses him. Nothing out of the ordinary.

They make small talk, but don’t address the elephant in the room. They have to make a stop to eat, which means putting on a show again. He’s determined not to let Peggy down this time.

Which is why the second he stops the engine, he runs around the car to get her door. As they walk towards the café Steve places his hand on Peggy’s lower back, as he’s seen Bucky do countless times on their double dates.

The dames back then had seemed to like it, and Peggy puts on a convincing act of liking it too, blushing just a little and sighing into the touch. He gets the door, and then her coat. He hopes he’s not overdoing it.

They sit in a cosy booth, and Peggy slides close so that the full length of her is pressed against Steve’s side. He needs to take a few deep breaths before he can work up the courage to put his arm around her - another move inspired by Bucky.

Peggy is a natural, sinking into his side like she belongs there. Anyone watching her performance must think the intimacy between them has existed for years.

While she scans the menu, Steve is enthralled. He’s never been this close to her for an extended period of time, and he can’t take his eyes off her. He watches her eyelashes flutter as she reads, her mouth moving ever so slightly as she weighs up her options.

He’s already familiar with the perfume she’s been wearing the past couple of days, but now that he’s closer he notices other scents. He picks up halo shampoo, hair pomade, the citrus scent of the soap she uses. His face is so close to the crown of her head, he wonders what it would feel like to rest his cheek on it.

Perhaps that’s too far, considering the public situation they’re in. But he could kiss her temple, if he made sure to do it when there weren’t many eyes on them, it would look natural, intimate…

Peggy beats him to the punch with a quick kiss on his cheek. He tenses up just a little, but manages to recover quickly.

“Are you ready to order? I’m starved!”

Steve, quite honestly, hasn’t even looked at the menu.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Kippers it is then.”

Steve wrinkles his nose as Peggy tips her head back in laughter. How does she remember his least favourite food?

“I’m only teasing!” She squeezes his thigh. “Your face is a picture.”

_God,_ he’s so far gone on her.

She’s still pressed against his side, so she barely has to move in order to brush her lips against his ear. He can’t help the pleasant shiver that runs down his spine.

“You’re getting rather good at this,” she whispers in his ear.

Steve lets his eyes close for just a moment, reveling in the sensations Peggy is teasing out of him.

“I have an excellent partner,” he finally says.

The blush returns to Peggy’s cheeks, and he makes a mental note to ask her later how she does that on cue.

The breath that leaves Peggy’s lips is ragged, and Steve starts to wonder how far they can take things in a public place. He’d certainly like to kiss her again. Of course, that’s when the waiter decides to ask for their order.

…

By the time they hunker down for the night, they’re both exhausted. Steve takes a cold shower, and tries not to think about holding Peggy close.

He leaves the bathroom and finds her curled up on the only chair in the room, it’s considerably smaller than the one he’d slept in last night. He opens his mouth to tell her to get into bed, but then she raises her eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Of course she found a way to make things even. He looks at the bed, then back at her. He could pick her up and put her in the bed, but he knows that won’t end well for him. So instead, he tosses her a blanket, then stretches out on the mattress. If she’s going to be stubborn, he might as well get a good night’s sleep out of it.

...

The main event goes off without a hitch. In action, Peggy is sensational to watch, changing her demeanour in minute ways depending on who she’s interacting with. Steve gets a thrill each time they approach a new situation, watching Peggy silently calculate her approach, and then execute it perfectly.

When they have an audience, Peggy is painfully intimate with Steve. Each touch sends a jolt through him, but he tries not to focus on that. Instead he returns her touches, following her example.

Stupidly, Steve starts to enjoy their closeness. So it hits him like a truck when they’re finally alone, on the long drive back, and Peggy untangles herself from him.

He wants to say something to break the tension, but his mind is completely blank.

“I’ve been meaning to talk about the other night.” Peggy’s voice is as soft as cool spring air, so it takes Steve’s mind a second to catch up with what she’s actually saying. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you, Steve.” 

His mouth opens and shuts while he stares at the road ahead. _Forced herself._

“Truly, I—” she pauses and Steve glances over. “I ought to have confirmed my feelings for you were reciprocated before I—”

Her _feelings_ for him?

“It wasn’t my intention to take advantage of you like that, Steve.”

_“Take advantage?”_ Steve’s says the words as though they’re a foreign language. His mind is trying to reframe that night the way Peggy must be seeing it.

Is it not blindingly obvious how far gone he is for her? He tries to find the words to explain, when Peggy suddenly changes the subject.

“On the left, pull in here.”

Steve does as he’s told but doesn’t have time to respond to her statement before Peggy is climbing out of the car.

This isn’t a stop Steve was expecting.

“I thought you already had what you needed?” He says as he speeds up to keep pace with her.

“I have the crucial cargo, yes.” She pats her bump, where he knows she’s stashed something top secret. “But it’s not all ours.”

Steve doesn’t push, he trusts her. But it means the intimacy is switched back on, and Steve is starting to feel like he might get whiplash.

…

They sit together in a café, sipping tea, waiting for something, or someone. Steve has no clue. But Peggy is putting on a show, which makes Steve uneasy. There must be eyes on them.

He forces himself not to react when she squeezes his thigh and plants a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m just nipping to the loo,” she murmurs in his ear, and Steve plays his part as the doting husband.

“Don’t be too long,” he says as he reaches over and pats her belly. Peggy looks taken aback for a fraction of a second, and then she’s out of her seat.

Steve brushes his hair off his face, ignoring the ache in his gut. He doesn’t understand why he’s getting so bent out of shape by a little padding under Peggy’s dress.

But it’s not just a little padding, it’s a glimpse into a potential future. Not _his_ potential future, he has to remind himself. At least, not yet...

He scrubs at his eyes as images of Peggy in a hospital bed holding a bundle of joy flood his mind. In his mind he kisses her damp forehead, he tells her he’s _so_ proud of her, tells her their baby is _perfect,_ just like their mother.

“We have to leave.” Peggy crashes into her seat, pulling Steve back to the present.

Steve reaches for the change in his pocket, intending to settle their bill, when all hell breaks loose. He reaches for a shield that isn’t on his back when bullets shatter the stacks of fine china.

Luckily Peggy is armed, and Steve improvises—the round table top is an effective makeshift shield.

…

They make it to the car and Steve drives as fast as he can without drawing suspicion. The journey is quiet, but Steve’s mind is buzzing with questions. He stumbles over what to ask first.

“Did I blow the mission?”

Peggy chuckles, but there’s something off about it, like she’s still out of breath.

“No, darling, you were wonderful.” Her voice is soft again, like honey. Steve wants to keep her talking, he wants to iron everything out.

“So everything isn’t ruined?”

Out of the corner of his eye he catches Peggy smiling. “Of course not. I passed on what was needed before our little shooting match.”

He nods. Then changes the subject.

“What you said earlier, about our… liaison” Steve steals his nerve, gripping the steering wheel for dear life. “I don’t feel taken advantage of.”

Peggy hums a questioning sound, and he glances at her. She’s leaning against the window now, but her eyes are still on him.

Minutes ago he was being shot at, but trying to admit his feelings to Peggy Carter is the thing that makes his stomach twist with nerves. Go figure.

“I’ve been crazy about you since I saw you knock Hodge to the ground.” It’s better she knows the truth and turns him down, than carry around some unfounded guilt.

He pushes on. “You didn’t force yourself on me. I was a willing participant, I _am_ a willing participant, if that’s what you’re looking for, that is. Not that I think you’re looking for anything…”

Christ, he’s just digging himself a hole now. But Peggy laughs, and then winces. He looks at her properly for the first time since they got back in the car, and realises she’s clutching her side.

_Shit._

…

Steve feels warm blood soaking through his shirt as he carries Peggy towards their room. She’s still conscious, but only just.

She whimpers as Steve lowers her onto the bed, as slowly and as gently as he possibly can. The front of him is drenched with blood, and he curses himself for not noticing sooner, for not insisting they pull over and staunch the bleeding.

Steve untucks her shirt and slip, and realises the padding around her midsection has absorbed a lot of blood. A _hell of a lot_ of blood.

He stuffs the padding under the bed, knowing it likely contains something important, then takes a closer look at the bullet wound that tore through Peggy’s side.

“That’s awfully inconvenient,” Peggy comments in a strained voice, although somehow she manages to keep her tone light.

Steve looks up, and when their eyes meet they share a look of sheer panic, before Peggy rests her head back against the pillow.

He starts to assess the damage. Peggy’s head lolls to the side and Steve realises she’s out cold. Panic sears through him, ice cold. He slips a hand under her cheek and tries to rouse her.

“ _Peggy!”_ He says her name with authority, as though an order will be more effective in pulling her back to consciousness. “Stay with me, Peggy,” his voice is softer, but it still elicits nothing.

“Can you open your eyes for me?” He’s pleading now, desperate for a response.

Nothing.

…

Peggy comes to with a scream when Steve disinfects the wound. He shushes her, trying to soothe her with his words while his hands work as quickly as he can make them. By the time he has her wound wrapped up tight, she’s out again.

He cleans them both up and slips off Peggy’s shoes, her jewellery, anything that might make her uncomfortable. He debates whether he should carry her back to the car and gun it back to base, but it’s at least a day’s drive, and he’s terrified she won’t make it.

If she can rest tonight, and Steve can get some food and water in her when she comes to, she should have enough strength for the drive tomorrow.

Steve checks her pulse three times before he lets himself sit down. He drags a chair to the bedside, and then sits bold upright for God knows how long. He starts to question if keeping her here was the right choice, but every so often she whimpers, and if lying in bed is causing her pain, he doesn’t want to imagine how she’d fare on a bumpy road.

He squeezes her hand, and eventually leans back in the chair, his eyelids starting to feel heavy as he watches her chest rise and fall.

…

Steve jolts awake what feels like seconds after he started drifting off. Peggy is awake, blinking up at the ceiling as she grips his hand.

She looks paler than usual, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but her breathing is much more even than it was earlier.

Steve helps her drink some water, then finds a cloth to mop her forehead. Without a second thought he leans down to press a kiss to her temple. She hums in appreciation.

Just as Steve starts to pull away, Peggy tugs on his arm, keeping him close.

“You’re not sleeping in the damn chair again,” she croaks, and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He manages to slot himself against her side without jostling her too much, and Peggy turns her head into him, nuzzling against his neck. Steve combs his fingers through Peggy’s hair as she finally drifts back to sleep.


End file.
